


Built For Tragedy.

by LifeInWentworth



Category: Wentworth - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeInWentworth/pseuds/LifeInWentworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got tired of writing happy ever after's so I just wrote something horribly depressing instead. Basically, Franky's been out of Wentworth for a few weeks but her behaviour is erratic and concerning, so Erica forces her to go and see a doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Built For Tragedy.

Somehow it seemed like Franky was even angrier since she was out of Wentworth. This wasn’t the first stupid bar fight she’d gotten into. All someone had to do was look at Erica, or jump the que, or take a little too long handing her the change and Franky seemed to snap.

“Franky, you can’t keep doing this,” Erica couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice as she unlocked the door to the apartment, “you’re so lucky they didn’t call the cops.”  
Franky nodded following her in, “I know, I know.”  
“Have you reconsidered – “  
“I’m not doing anger management, I can deal with this,” Franky waved a hand dismissively.  
“Bullshit you can. You’ve been out a couple of weeks, how many fights have you been in? How many plates have you broken?”  
“I told you, I’d replace the stupid plates,” Franky snapped back.  
“God, it’s not about the stupid plates you idiot, it’s about you,” Erica had known Franky wouldn’t be easy to live with but at this rate, she was going to land herself back inside within the month.  
“I’ll deal with it, I swear,” Franky said.  
And not for the first night since Franky had moved in, Erica fell asleep to the sound of Franky huffing and puffing as she beat the shit out of the punching bag, hopefully but seemingly doubtfully releasing all of her anger.

Franky swung her fist fast and hard as Erica braced herself for the impact, back against the wall but Franky’s fist found the wall right beside her head instead and then let her entire body collapsed into it. Erica sighed in relief. She’d never felt in danger around Franky, not at Wentworth and not since, but lately her anger was out of control. It was something else altogether.   
“Do you still think you’ve got control of this?” Erica asked quietly, her body trembling. She’d really thought…for a moment… There was a new look in Franky’s eyes and she just couldn’t identify what it was and it was starting to scare her.  
Franky pulled back from the wall, “I’m sorry,” she stammered out, “I don’t know what…I’m sorry.”  
“Franky, you nearly hit me,” Erica said, pulling herself off the wall and sitting down, slightly breathless.  
The brunette flinched, “No, I wouldn’t Erica. I’d never hurt you. You know that.”  
Erica surveyed the woman before her, “I thought I did, but I don’t know anymore. Something is going on with you, Franky. I don’t know what the hell it is, but you need to see someone. I swear to god, Franky, if you hit me, I’m out. No second chances.”  
Franky swallowed hard and nodded, “I know, I won’t. I love you.”

Erica didn’t understand how Franky could go from so vicious to so…pathetically tragic in a split second. She was clutching her head in pain, eyes screwed shut as tightly as she could. Somehow though, things seemed to get better for a couple of weeks, Franky only hit her punching bag and they even managed to have a night out without any agro at all. One night, Franky even cooked Erica dinner and set the table up with candles and flowers, being a total sweetheart and making Erica remember how surprisingly romantic the younger woman could be.

“Franky, what are you doing?”   
“Watching the tv, what’s it look like?” Franky was settled on a couch in her boxers and singlet crunching on cereal, staring at the television.  
“It’s nearly ten,” Erica said, rushing around the house.  
Franky frowned, “Erica, it’s the weekend, why are you so stressed?”  
Erica stopped in her tracks staring at Franky, incredulous, “Are you serious? My parents are due any minute.”  
Franky blinked several times in confusion, “You didn’t tell me your folks were coming.”  
“Franky…” Erica said concernedly, “We’ve been talking about it all week. Don’t you remember?”  
Franky stood up and placed her bowl on the kitchen bench, turning to Erica, “You didn’t tell me, Erica. I’m not even dressed.”  
Erica took a step back, confused; she’d been stressed about this visit all week and Franky had been so supportive, promising to be on her best behaviour. Erica had told her they were coming at ten so many times that Franky had joked she would take that time to her grave. How could she not remember? Erica approached Franky, pulling her away from the dishes at the sink and placing a hand on her cheek.  
“Franky, I think… something’s going on. I think we should get you to a doctor.”  
Franky frowned, “What are you talking about? I feel fine, you didn’t tell me about your parents Erica, that’s not my fault.”  
“Franky, I’m sorry but I told you way more than once honey, I’m worried about you.”  
Franky looked away, trying to think but she really couldn’t remember Erica telling her that her stupid parents were coming to visit…why couldn’t she remember?   
“Maybe I’m just tired,” Franky tried to rationalise, shrugging.  
Erica shook her head, “Franky, please. The anger, headaches and now your memory…”  
“Oh the anger’s nothing new,” Franky threw up her hands, “You know I’ve always been angry.”  
Erica hung her head for a moment before looking up at the younger woman, “Franky, you nearly hit me, remember? I know you’re angry, I know that, but this is more than that. Just let me take care of you, please.”  
Franky crossed her arms, “Fine, if it’ll make you feel better.”  
“It will,” Erica nodded.  
The doorbell rang and Franky rushed off to have a shower as Erica tried to compose herself, walking to the door.

“Franky,” Erica chased after the younger woman.  
“Can we just go?” Franky asked as she got to the car.  
“No, Franky, you can’t just walk away from this. We need – “  
“Fine, I won’t, I’ll drive, give me the keys.”  
“Franky, we – “  
“Erica,” Franky yelled, “There is no we, don’t you get it? It’s my stupid brain, I’m dying, not you.”  
Erica gulped, holding back tears, “Franky, don’t say that. We don’t even know how serious it is.”  
Franky punched the car in anger, “It’s me, Erica. I’m fucking bad luck. If I have a brain tumour, it’s not going to be the nice kind that just goes away. It’s going to be vicious and debilitating and completely undignified. I’m going to die. What the fuck was the use of getting through all this shit if I’m just going to fucking…” she collapsed against the car, the tears making her make up run. Erica made her way over to her and pulled her into her arms, stroking her hair.  
“Shh, don’t jump to conclusions, we don’t know any of that. We need to wait and see how serious it is. Franky, you’re strong, you can get through anything,” Erica forced herself not to cry; that was the last thing Franky needed right now.

Franky yawned, rubbing her eyes.  
“Erica?” she called out feebly.  
Erica flew into the room and crouched down next to the couch, “Hey, baby are you okay? You need anything?”  
Franky shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around her, “Another blanket maybe? I’m still cold,” her jaw was trembling.  
Erica nodded and came back a minute later with another warm blanket, draping it over the pale, shivering brunette, “Anything else?”  
“Just you,” Franky put a trembling hand on Erica’s face.  
Erica held Franky’s hand tight against her face with her own, “I love you. You’re doing so well, Franky, I’m proud of you.”  
Franky shrugged, “I’ve dealt with worse than chemo, right? I can do anything with you by my side, Erica. You make me feel so much stronger.”  
Franky meant it; she didn’t know where she’d be, especially now, without Erica. The first round of chemo was never going to be a picnic, but Erica had held her hair back as she threw up time and time again and tried to cook her meals that would motivate her to eat, even if she did end up throwing that up too.   
“That’s what I’m here for,” Erica whispered.  
“Mm, just need the uniform and you’d make the perfect little nurse,” Franky managed to smirk half-heartedly.   
Erica smiled, same old Franky, “Someone’s feeling better.”  
“Can I move to the bed?” Franky asked.  
Erica nodded, “Yeah, of course, come here,” she gathered the blankets up and helped Franky to the bedroom. This was a good day. Understandably, some day’s all Franky did was sleep or try to, and throw up and clutch her stomach, curling herself into as tight a ball as she could. Some days she was depressed and just wanted the tumour to switch her brain off already; she couldn’t be bothered fighting it. She’d promised Erica she’d try, but sometimes she wondered if it was all in vain.


End file.
